


To Be With You

by Nebbles



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Askr (Fire Emblem Heroes), M/M, heroes based stuff is fun and opens to lots of possibilities, implied self harm, tw for slight self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-11 02:52:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18421311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nebbles/pseuds/Nebbles
Summary: “Never in the two thousand years I have been alive,” Grima murmurs as Chrom’s hand slips into his, “have I ever been offered this kindness.”





	To Be With You

It’s a new environment to him, Askr - it’s a lively world, filled with people from many different walks of life. It’s so unlike the world he came from. It’s full of people who don’t look at him in disgust, which is perhaps what surprises Grima the most. He’s kept himself to the shadows, where no one can hurt him. Who says those looks will last, anyway? It’s only a matter of time. 

Yet, like clockwork, there’s one he’s continued to talk to regularly. Despite it all, there’s something of a friendship formed. Someone who actually wants to see the walls of his torn down, who sees something in his eyes. 

He laughs softly to himself, huddled in a remote, empty hall of the castle. How long will the exalt continue to see him, he wonders? Is it just a guise to get close and then slay him, as perhaps should’ve done years ago? Why would he care about the emotional plights of some creature that shouldn’t exist? It’s not a concept he can grasp, and yet he still desires the company anyway.

It’s nothing he’s ever had before, and it’s nice. It makes him feel something that isn’t hatred. He isn’t sure what the new feeling is. It’s preferable. It’s warm. Seeing Chrom is the only good thing he’s had, even if it’s something Grima thinks he doesn’t deserve. 

Idly, Grima picks at the mark on his hand. It’s not enough to break skin - not this time - but it distracts him from the thoughts gnawing at his mind. He wants to be rid of the mark completely, a reminder of who he is: a foul creature built for despair, born for destruction. 

He draws back his fingers before blood can well forth, slipping the damaged skin back under his glove. It stings enough to draw his focus. Enough to beat back the whispers of why he doesn’t deserve his life. 

Where is Chrom? Why hasn’t he arrived yet? Grima longs to hear him talk about whatever’s happened this week. It’s a distraction. He needs a distraction as he grips harder onto his gloved hand. 

He takes in a deep breath, casting his gaze towards the empty hall. His stomach churns as nerves seize his entire being, paralyzed by fear that no one’s coming to find him, and he’s going to be alone. 

Is that how things should be? No. Chrom wouldn’t want him to think like that. He pulls the hood of his robe over his head, drawing his knees into his chest. 

I have a purpose, he repeats to himself, untrue as it feels. I do not exist purely to destroy.

Minutes crawl by at an unbearable rate, slow and encasing, until footsteps finally echo down the hall. It goes unnoticed until there’s suddenly a hand on his shoulder, and Grima jumps at the sensation, hold on his hood still tight as he looks up to see Chrom’s worried face.  
“Are you alright?” He’s already kneeling next to him, “I was trying to find you, but you weren’t at our usual location. I didn’t think you’d be here this time.” 

“I… I apologize. I wanted to return here to where I felt more…” Grima tries to find the word. Safe? Alone? Not somewhere he can shame Chrom’s reputation by being near him? “...I don’t know.”

There’s the look. It’s the same concerned one he’s offered nearly every time they meet. It makes Grima want to slip further into his robes; it’s a look he doesn’t deserve. It’s too kind. 

“You don’t seem well.” Chrom studies his face further. “You haven’t come back here in awhile… did something happen?”

He releases the hold on himself, and looks at his covered hand. If he’s to show Chrom this, there’s no going back. It’s something he’ll now look out for. He’ll ask to see his hand constantly, to make sure it’s not covered in scar tissue. To make sure the inside of his gloves aren’t stained with blood. 

“Why do you come here and speak with me?” He tentatively holds the fingers of his glove, considering slipping it back off. 

“Because I want to?” Chrom’s thrown off by the question. “I thought I answered this before. You looked like you needed someone, and I can’t ignore people in need. And the more I talked to you, the more I wanted to be your friend.”

“Friends with the fell dragon. You never fail to surprise me.” Grima tugs the glove forward. “And what do your Shepherds think?”

“They just want me to be careful. I’ve told them there’s nothing to worry about.” He keeps his hand on Grima’s shoulder. He looks to the glove that’s Grima is fixated on. Chrom’s about to ask is his hand is alright before the damage is right before his eyes. 

“You’re right, Chrom. I’m not well.” 

“Your… your hand…” Chrom feels as though he’s been punched in the throat. It’s obvious the injury is a product of self-harm. He wishes he had the medical knowledge of both his sisters, so he could gauge how fresh the marks are. So many questions run through his mind, and he’s only able to ask one as he looks directly at Grima, “why?” 

Does he have a proper answer? Grima just shrugs, “I don’t want this mark on my hand anymore.”

“That’s… y-you shouldn’t be doing this to yourself…” Chrom tries to get a hold of his senses. He can deal with the shock later. Helping Grima is more important. “You should’ve talked to me about this…”

“Please. You’ve dealt with enough of my emotions. I can’t trouble you with anything else.” He can’t figure out why Chrom is so upset. Humans bleed all the time. They recover from injuries as if they were nothing. The marks on his hand are hardly serious compared to actual wounds, so why is he getting looked at in such a particular way? “I’ll get over this and we can resume our usual talks.”

“I don’t want to forget about this. I want to help you.” Chrom reaches out to take Grima’s hand, and he pulls it further away. “I don’t want you hurting…”

And that’s what Grima doesn’t understand. He tries to approach it from several angles. Chrom’s too nice, too trusting, too every good quality he can list. What good would caring for him carry? He’s a monster. A mistake. And he doesn’t want Chrom to make one by getting close. 

It’s hard to ignore the temptation to lean into him. Grima bets Chrom is just so warm and pleasant to curl up against. He’d feel safe. 

But if he’s to give in, he’s accepting all the good Chrom’s offering him, and Grima doesn’t know if he can.

“I can always go to a healer if it’s too bad.” It sounds beyond fake, and even Grima isn’t convinced by his own words. 

Chrom isn’t convinced either, and it’s clear as day by the look he’s given. 

“How long have you been hiding this?” Chrom scoots closer to him, trying to get a better look at the injury. “I’m not mad. I promise. I just want to know how I can help.”

“And how would you?” He asks, eyes glued to the insignia on his hand. It stares back. “You cannot remove the mark. You cannot change my origins, and you cannot change the years of being spat on for simply existing.”

Self-loathing runs deep in Grima’s veins. It’s one of the first things he knew how to feel. Anger, hate, disgust, contempt. Loneliness, heartache, sadness, pain. It’s all he knows. It’s all he ever expects to know. Whatever he feels around Chrom is fleeting. It won’t last forever. Good things never do. 

“Friends help each other by being there. I know I can’t change what happened to you, but I can be there to help.” Chrom places a hand on his shoulder. “Just to see if the hurt can go away.”

“Do you really believe it’s that simple?” It’s mere fantasy to think he’d wake up tomorrow morning happy. If he had an ounce of Chrom’s optimism, perhaps it’d be believable. “After all that you’ve learned?”

“In time, I think things will get easier. You won’t do this to yourself anymore. Life will be better.” Grima offers him a look of disbelief. “And, well… I’d like to be the one to help you.”

Happiness. Warmth. There’s so much to be happen if he accepts. He and Chrom look at each other, and Grima faintly wonders what his lips feel like. If he says yes, maybe it’s something to find out. Maybe Chrom’s right. It goes against everything Grima’s thought about himself. 

He takes a deep breath, offering out a hand to take. An acceptance. A way to say he’ll try this. 

Chrom takes his hand in return.

“Never in the two thousand years I have been alive,” Grima murmurs as Chrom’s hand slips into his, “have I ever been offered this kindness.”

There’s a warmth shared between their touch as Chrom grips Grima’s hand tighter, their fingers lacing together. Grima feels himself afraid to let go - if he does, this sort of feeling will never grace him once more.

“Perhaps it’s time someone does, then.” Chrom smiles at him, radiant as sunlight, and Grima wonders if it’s nothing but a dream.

“Your legacy has been founded upon wanting to end my existence. What would your ancestors say if they saw this?” Grima focuses on their conjoined hands. 

“They’ve never gotten to know you. They haven’t known you’ve been hurting for so, so long… and I’m sorry I was almost one of them.” Chrom holds him close, resting his forehead against Grima’s. “No one deserves to go through what you did.”

 

“I killed my creator. I’ve tried to bring a world to its knees, and you’re going to tell me I don’t deserve to be hated? You’re too kind, Chrom. Stupidly so.” His eyes are focused on the space between them, tiny as it may be. “I have done nothing to earn you.”

“I’m a firm believer in that people are able to forge their own destinies. I don’t know what your creator intended for you, but I doubt it was to be a monster. Who would create something just to be hated?” Chrom lifts Grima’s chin with his hand, “that’s beyond cruel. That’s a fate no one deserves.” 

“I’m an abomination,” he averts his eyes once more, “all your talk of believing I have a better path… that’s not the life for me. I cannot ask you to stay by my side. ...I did not come to Askr to be shown kindness.”

“Grima,” his tone is firm as he cradles Grima’s face in his hands, “I refuse to believe you were put on this earth just for that reason. I know I can’t force you to believe me. I just want to help you find happiness.”

“Why?” Grima finally faces him, unable to fathom why Chrom is looking at him like that. Why there’s affection in his eyes. It’s beyond belief that out of everyone in Askr, out of everyone Chrom can be with, he’s chosen to be here. 

“You haven’t figured it out?” Grima feels his heart skip a beat as Chrom’s thumb gently strokes his cheek. “Why I’ve kept coming back to talk to you once I learned how lonely and in pain you were?”

“I… I didn’t ask for pity!” He tries to lace the words with venom, yet the bite isn’t there. “If that’s why you’re here, leave!”

“Grima,” he repeats, softly this time, looking into his eyes, “I want to be here. I want to be at your side.”

He’s unable to find any words.

“There’s… surely there are others you can place your affections with…” His breath catches in his throat, trying to process what he’s hearing. “Why are you choosing me over Robin? Or Frederick? Or anyone else in this castle?”

“There’s something about you. I want to see you be happy, and have a chance for a better life here. While Robin and Frederick mean a lot to me, they aren’t the ones I’ve lost my heart to.” Chrom sees the shock of red go across Grima’s cheeks, and it makes him give a soft laugh that melts his very being. “I’ve fallen for you, as much as you seem adamant in not believing me.”

“I… in another world I could’ve killed you…” He hates the fact that tears instantly sting at his eyes. “I could’ve ended your world… h-how…”

“I know. And from what I know being in Askr, there are several worlds and timelines with different versions of ourselves, good and bad. And you’re not that same Grima, right?” Chrom moves to wipe a stray tear with his thumb. “Just as I’m obviously not the same Chrom from that world.”

“My point still stands! I don’t deserve any of this!” Grima attempts to keep his voice steady as tears spill out onto Chrom’s hands. “Just because this is some ‘better’ version of me means nothing!”

“It does.” Chrom hates to see him cry like this. His tears are a mixture of anger and pain - years of a weary heart crushed under the feeling of loneliness. “You have a chance to live a better life here. And I believe you can take that chance and make something of it.” 

Grima wants to try and argue back - refute that Chrom’s stupid, good heart should be saved for another. That he doesn’t deserve to be held in such a way. That he doesn’t deserve that smile, those warm eyes filled with love reserved for him and no one else. It’s selfish of him to want Chrom more than anything. It’s selfish to want to ignore his confliction and be drawn into the arms of the exalt - gods, he’s the exalt - and relish in his affection. It’s selfish to let himself admit he’s been in love with Chrom and his stupid kindness ever since he’d arrived. 

He’s so unbelievably selfish, but Chrom loves him anyway, and it only makes the tears come   
faster.

Chrom doesn’t bother to stay his tears. He places a soft kiss on Grima’s forehead, enveloping him in a tight embrace, a hand working its way through his hair. Soft whispers of reassurance fill Grima’s ears followed by gentle kisses, all of which Grima cannot help but enjoy. 

“I want to give you that happiness, if you’ll allow me.” Chrom’s voice is so gentle, and it’s such a sweet sound to hear. 

Grima buries his head further into Chrom’s shoulder and nods weakly, clinging to him, almost afraid to let go. 

“Hey,” Chrom whispers, parting slightly so he can lift Grima’s face close to his, “I promise to be by your side. I want to never have you feel that level of pain ever again. As long as we’re here… my heart is yours, my love.”

He tries to make sense of the expression that’s present on Grima’s face. It’s as red as a beet, tears still wetting it, shock in his eyes. A disbelief that such a gentle term’s bestowed on him - that someone is willingly calling the fell dragon their love. It’s genuine and warm, soft and wonderful, and it’s for him and no one else. 

It’s even more wonderful when Chrom’s lips gently touch his. A chaste, yet warm kiss. A kiss that signifies the start of their relationship, something new and exciting, something Grima’s never felt before.

Hope.

He allows Chrom to kiss the last of his tears away, the soft feeling of his lips melting away at Grima’s core. It’s arguably the most wonderful thing he’s ever felt. He wants to stay here forever, in this lone area of Askr’s castle, forever wrapped in the arms of his love.

“Thank you,” he whispers, returning the kisses in kind, “for giving me a chance when no one else would.”

“Of course.” Chrom lifts the injured hand, pressing a kiss to it. He traces a thumb on the outline of Grima’s scars, “I’ll do everything I can for you, Grima. I promise.”

He relaxes fully into the exalt’s touch, melting into further kisses, safe in their own little corner of the world.


End file.
